So, Target has come to our neighbourhood--and I don't even live in the 'burbs! I won't pretend I'm in two minds about it: I'm not. I think that a superstore within walking distance that carries cheap sponges, kitty litter, and other household items is something like a godsend. As much as possible, we avoid driving, so not having to cross a non-bikeable bridge and get on a highway to get to Target makes me smile. And I don't have any qualms about my non-local, superstore purchased sponges. Or kitty litter.
What I do have several qualms about, however, is Target's section of clothing "targeting" little girls. Here's some of their latest stock:
[Unfortunately, a computer virus erased the photos that I'd taken for this post before I got a chance to upload it. Imagine lots of ruffly black mesh, super-short skirts, and tops that barely meet skirt's waistline, and you're on the right track...]
The last picture is of a child who, as I was taking pictures of the clothing in question, began exclaiming about how "keeeeyute!!!" the clothing was. Unfortunately, since I was the only customer in earshot when the young lady began gushing about the clothing, I suspect that my own interest in it may have sparked hers. No doubt if a hip young woman such as myself deemed them to be photo-worthy, she had better take note. ;) Now, you may not be the prude I am: I would dress my daughters in potato-sack jumpers till they were twenty if I could! Perhaps you don't have a problem with microminis for tots ("But they have leggings!"), or suggestive black ruffly skirts, or lounge-singer sequined tops, or leopard print everything. Target certainly isn't the worst of it (apparently Abercrombie and Fitch has a padded bikini top for seven-year-olds?), but since I avoid malls like the plague, it's my only exposure. And every time I walk by this section, I'm shocked. Really? I wonder. Can this really be how parents are choosing to dress their six- to twelve-year-olds? And then, just out of curiosity, I went to the toddler section. Where I found this:
[Once again, no photo thanks to the virus that attacked my computer. Picture a teeny-tiny black mesh "skirt"--and I use the word loosely.]
Size 3T. My (little) four-year-old and (big) two-year-old wear this size. But they sure won't be wearing this...thing. And I'll nix the padded bikini tops while I'm at it. Even if they beg, even if they plead, and yes, even if all the girls they know are dressing this way. (Fortunately, at this point, I have friends who share similar values about clothing and a similar distaste for the sexualization of little girls, and my girls are young enough that their friends are the children of my friends. I know that in a few years, I'll likely not be so lucky.)
Even if you don't think the Target clothing is as atrocious as I do, still you must admit that many of the current trends in girl's fashion sexualizes little girls. Now maybe I'm being naive, but I highly doubt that little girls want to dress "sexy" to please boys. Certainly, it has something to do with their female peers. But the fact that many mothers endorse or at least allow it is also telling. Here's the question: Why on earth would any mother sanction and even support such a thing?
My theory is that it all has to do with vicarious living. It's hard to argue that many mothers don't, to a certain extent, live vicariously through their children, especially their daughters. Think of the character played by Tea Leoni in the movie Spanglish. A fitness buff herself, she practically forces her daughter to lose weight by buying her new clothes that are two sizes too small! Unfortunately, we mothers frequently do similar things to our children (albeit often tamer versions) in just about every area of life: spiritual life, educational life, social life, food, fitness and fashion, and the list goes on. (And of course it's problematic in every arena, but lets stick to clothing here.) I suspect that mothers who allow their daughters to don "sexy" clothing are falling prey to the allure of seeing their flesh and blood look so damn hot!
Think about it for a minute. Supermodels and prepubescent girls often have one thing in common: they are skin and bones. Clothes made for supermodels look "good" on young girls who have no breasts, no belly and no booty. Grown women usually have all of the above in varying degrees and therefore look varying degrees of ridiculous in clothing made for supermodels... But their daughters don't. And so they let them dress this way--maybe even encourage them to. But it's not right. It amounts to pimping your own daughter to buy yourself an ego fix.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Through Childbearing...
I'm fairly certain that I'm treading out onto thin ice by beginning my postpartum post with 1 Timothy 2:15: "For she [i.e., woman] will be saved through childbearing--if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control." After all, this verse has given some ammunition to those who accuse the church in general, and St. Paul in particular, of "reducing" women to the status of baby-makers or even mere incubators! Together with the veneration of Mary for her role as Theotokos (God-bearer), the biblical link between a woman's salvation and her role as birth-giver has been infuriating women for decades certainly, and possibly for centuries. Even aside from the difficulties a feminist might have with this verse, there's the obvious Protestant objection that such a verse might lead women to believe they can be saved by the work of bearing children. So I ask you to bear with me, in faith that I'm not a misogynist or a neo-Pelagian, just a Christian mama trying to make sense of scripture in the light of tradition, and my own experience giving birth.
Without actually knowing the tradition of this verse's interpretation, I'm going to guess that some have tried to explain its hardness away by claiming that the salvific childbearing in question is Mary's, and that Paul is doing nothing more than pointing to Christ as the saviour in a slightly convoluted way. I don't buy it. Certainly, Paul could be deliberately contextualizing all birth-giving within Mary's archetypal God-bearing, but he is certainly also referring to the childbearing of particular women and its role in their own salvation. After all, Paul makes his claim that "she will be saved by childbearing" in the midst of more general (and arguably inflammatory) instructions to women about how they should dress (modestly) and how they should relate to men (submissively).
The issues of women's clothing and female authority are large ones in and of themselves, so I'm going to bracket them for now. Rather than looking at the restrictions that Paul would place on women's dress and behaviour (the paths of ostentatiousness and power-seeking that we should avoid), I'd like to keep the focus on his more positive claim about childbirth (the path wherein we, as mothers, should walk.) What then does it mean for the Christian mother to be saved by childbearing?
In thinking about this, I can't help but recall my own experiences giving birth to Katherine and Naomi, as well as my week-old experience of birthing my son Isaiah. Each of these has had for me, hidden within it, a kind of precept or truth about the spiritual life. With Katie, it was the miracle of God's power to preserve human life. During the 42 hours I laboured with her, the thought occurred to me over and over: "I am going to die." Or, more urgently as I approached the end "I am dying!" And always the anxiety that my baby would die too and it would all be for nothing. But throughout, God held us both and did not take us back to Himself, keeping us here in the world with the people who love us and (for now) need us.
With Naomi, it was the miracle of the Resurrection. Whereas Katie's labour had been a mere brush with death, in birthing Naomi I did die. Not physically--my heart never stopped. But on a deeper level, on the plane where time is meaningless (as it is in labour), where the space between heartbeats contains an eternity of little moments. On that level, the "I" stopped being. I can remember the midwife saying "We've got a cord! DON'T PUSH!" once I had birthed Naomi's head. I remember struggling against my body's urge to push, trying to hold the baby within myself and the feeling of being rent in two. And then a terrifying nothingness, stretching into eternity. And then God brought me back to life with the cry of my little one. What was that moment of nothingness? I've since watched the recorded video of the birth, and discovered the strangest thing. I was not, as I had supposed, unconscious during this moment. Rather, I am speaking. Whispering, actually. And the words on my lips: "Jesus, save me."
With Naomi I also learned a little bit about synergy--the cooperation of God and man (or, in this case, woman). Whereas with Katie, I never felt an urge to push (I pushed only because I had reached full dilation and hospital staff told me to), with Naomi my body more or less ejected the baby and all I had to do was cooperate with it. I learned that I am, indeed, "fearfully and wonderfully made," and that rather than fighting each contraction and experiencing horrible pain, I could "cooperate" with each contraction, assent to it almost, thereby experiencing minimal pain and progressing so much more quickly than I had with Katie. The spiritual life is no different: try to do it all on your own steam and you have a whole lot of toil with little or no progress. But step out of the way, make your sole goal that of the Baptist's (i.e., to "decrease"), and God will complete the good work begun in you.
And what have I learned from Isaiah? It is still rather early to know, but God certainly further deepened my understanding of synergy. If I died involuntarily with Naomi, I gave myself over to God in birthing Isaiah. And yet, paradoxically, I worked so much harder! I'd figured that my third baby would be easier than my second, as my second was easier than my first. But not only was he posterior for much of the labour (thank God, he finally turned!), he was a hearty 9lbs, with a 14-inch head, and the little guy tried to come out sucking his thumb! All of this made for a really intense pushing stage. I'm told that veins popped out in my neck and forehead, and I certainly have the petechiae to prove it!
But I have a secret. That last push, the one that got him out? I didn't do it. At that moment, I was too busy giving my body over to God, to do with it what He would. Several times during pushing I cried out in terror, "God, HELP ME!" not because I was afraid of dying this time, but because the pain was nearly unbearable. And it was with my doula's words in my ear "God is helping you push this baby out," and finally with the complete relinquishing of my body to God that Isaiah finally came into the world.
So am I being saved through childbearing? If so, it is not because of what I am doing in birthing the children that God has given me, but because of what He is able to teach me in this most holy work. And lest I think the work is now done, there is the rest of the verse to contend with: "...if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control." May God give me the grace and self-control I need to bring up my children in faith and love and holiness.
Without actually knowing the tradition of this verse's interpretation, I'm going to guess that some have tried to explain its hardness away by claiming that the salvific childbearing in question is Mary's, and that Paul is doing nothing more than pointing to Christ as the saviour in a slightly convoluted way. I don't buy it. Certainly, Paul could be deliberately contextualizing all birth-giving within Mary's archetypal God-bearing, but he is certainly also referring to the childbearing of particular women and its role in their own salvation. After all, Paul makes his claim that "she will be saved by childbearing" in the midst of more general (and arguably inflammatory) instructions to women about how they should dress (modestly) and how they should relate to men (submissively).
The issues of women's clothing and female authority are large ones in and of themselves, so I'm going to bracket them for now. Rather than looking at the restrictions that Paul would place on women's dress and behaviour (the paths of ostentatiousness and power-seeking that we should avoid), I'd like to keep the focus on his more positive claim about childbirth (the path wherein we, as mothers, should walk.) What then does it mean for the Christian mother to be saved by childbearing?
In thinking about this, I can't help but recall my own experiences giving birth to Katherine and Naomi, as well as my week-old experience of birthing my son Isaiah. Each of these has had for me, hidden within it, a kind of precept or truth about the spiritual life. With Katie, it was the miracle of God's power to preserve human life. During the 42 hours I laboured with her, the thought occurred to me over and over: "I am going to die." Or, more urgently as I approached the end "I am dying!" And always the anxiety that my baby would die too and it would all be for nothing. But throughout, God held us both and did not take us back to Himself, keeping us here in the world with the people who love us and (for now) need us.
With Naomi, it was the miracle of the Resurrection. Whereas Katie's labour had been a mere brush with death, in birthing Naomi I did die. Not physically--my heart never stopped. But on a deeper level, on the plane where time is meaningless (as it is in labour), where the space between heartbeats contains an eternity of little moments. On that level, the "I" stopped being. I can remember the midwife saying "We've got a cord! DON'T PUSH!" once I had birthed Naomi's head. I remember struggling against my body's urge to push, trying to hold the baby within myself and the feeling of being rent in two. And then a terrifying nothingness, stretching into eternity. And then God brought me back to life with the cry of my little one. What was that moment of nothingness? I've since watched the recorded video of the birth, and discovered the strangest thing. I was not, as I had supposed, unconscious during this moment. Rather, I am speaking. Whispering, actually. And the words on my lips: "Jesus, save me."
With Naomi I also learned a little bit about synergy--the cooperation of God and man (or, in this case, woman). Whereas with Katie, I never felt an urge to push (I pushed only because I had reached full dilation and hospital staff told me to), with Naomi my body more or less ejected the baby and all I had to do was cooperate with it. I learned that I am, indeed, "fearfully and wonderfully made," and that rather than fighting each contraction and experiencing horrible pain, I could "cooperate" with each contraction, assent to it almost, thereby experiencing minimal pain and progressing so much more quickly than I had with Katie. The spiritual life is no different: try to do it all on your own steam and you have a whole lot of toil with little or no progress. But step out of the way, make your sole goal that of the Baptist's (i.e., to "decrease"), and God will complete the good work begun in you.
And what have I learned from Isaiah? It is still rather early to know, but God certainly further deepened my understanding of synergy. If I died involuntarily with Naomi, I gave myself over to God in birthing Isaiah. And yet, paradoxically, I worked so much harder! I'd figured that my third baby would be easier than my second, as my second was easier than my first. But not only was he posterior for much of the labour (thank God, he finally turned!), he was a hearty 9lbs, with a 14-inch head, and the little guy tried to come out sucking his thumb! All of this made for a really intense pushing stage. I'm told that veins popped out in my neck and forehead, and I certainly have the petechiae to prove it!
But I have a secret. That last push, the one that got him out? I didn't do it. At that moment, I was too busy giving my body over to God, to do with it what He would. Several times during pushing I cried out in terror, "God, HELP ME!" not because I was afraid of dying this time, but because the pain was nearly unbearable. And it was with my doula's words in my ear "God is helping you push this baby out," and finally with the complete relinquishing of my body to God that Isaiah finally came into the world.
So am I being saved through childbearing? If so, it is not because of what I am doing in birthing the children that God has given me, but because of what He is able to teach me in this most holy work. And lest I think the work is now done, there is the rest of the verse to contend with: "...if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control." May God give me the grace and self-control I need to bring up my children in faith and love and holiness.
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